


At Night

by itsoliverherelol



Category: Dream SMP - Fandom
Genre: Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29829048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsoliverherelol/pseuds/itsoliverherelol
Summary: Tubbo finds himself standing at Tommy's memorial yet again to thinkidk how to summarize it's just angst man
Kudos: 2





	At Night

It was the fourth night in a row that Tubbo had found himself standing in front of the memorial, bags under his eyes as he brushed the snow off the headstone with his bare hands.

The cold bit at any exposed skin he had, his cloak doing almost nothing after being hastily clipped on over his regular clothing when he had decided to come out here. It probably hadn't been a very good idea to just listen to that urge, but he didn't care.

Tommy's memorial had a calming environment. Oddly something the man himself never had, but he didn't entirely dislike the feeling. It was almost like Tommy was finally managing to be at peace, albeit, not remotely the way he would have wanted. 

He knew it was something said often about people who die, but Tommy had been taken too early. The fact that he died in this way was awful and uneventful. That wasn't like Tommy. If it had been Tommy's choice, he would have gone out with a bang. Just like Wilbur. 

Tubbo sat on the bench, a shiver going down his spine from the cold surface while his leg bobbed quickly up and down from his nervous contemplation. There was something wrong with him. He felt like he should be doing more, despite that this was the first time he had managed to get himself to sit down all day. Tommy would have wanted him to do more. He could clearly imagine getting yelled at when he finally kicks the bucket about how he did nothing. But he had stopped trusting every person he had trusted before; he had distanced himself from everyone, hiding away every single day in his small, claustrophobic investigation room, working tirelessly to try and put the pieces together and figure out who the hell had done it. What more could he possibly do?

The sun began to peak over the horizon, causing a slightly painful feeling in his eyes, and refusing to give him any sort of warmth. Was Tommy feeling this cold? Could he even feel, where he was? Because despite what Tommy would try to say, he was a very physically caring person. It put a pain in him to think that he could possibly be somewhere that he couldn't feel at all. Physical touch was something that seemed to ground him and make him sure that everyone around him was real. A shoulder punch, a hair ruffle, a lingering hug. All of that were things Tommy enjoyed and cherished, albeit quietly, and he liked to pretend he didn't. 

He took a long breath and ran his hands down his face. He shouldn't have come here if he knew it was going to make him emotional. This place was meant to give him closure. And while most of the time it worked, today it was just... upsetting him. The sun had risen completely and found its way behind the clouds, hiding its warmth from him, and he knew he could always head back and get warmth inside, yet he didn't move. 

How did normal people cope with this shit? He had seen Ranboo crying, despite the fact that those always left a mark, and he had seen Jack acting solemnly despite how much he seemed to despise Tommy at times. But hadn't seen anyone acting like he had. What was wrong with him? Shouldn't the best friend be the one taking it the worst? 

He breathed into his hands, shivering more than he had been before. It was only going to get worse the longer he spent out here. The sun had risen completely and found its way behind the clouds, but it was like it was hiding its warmth from him, and he knew he could always head back and get warmth inside, yet he didn't want to leave. He didn't want to leave Tommy. 

Didn't Tommy want to leave him?

He suddenly felt a hand fall on his shoulder, and half of him was hoping it would be Tommy as he turned to look who it was. But no. It was just Ranboo, looking down at him with an unidentifiable expression and fresh scar trails on his face. He was taking it worse than him. 

"It's cold out," Ranboo said. The sound of his voice was quiet, gravely, but somehow still managed to echo across the still water and ice surrounding them. His hand tightened as Tubbo looked away from him and back at the headstone.

"I know," Tubbo replied. 

"You should head back."

"I... I know." He wiped under his eyes, not finding tears like he had slightly hoped. The cold shouldn't make people this kind of numb. "I don't want to." 

Tubbo saw the mist from Ranboo's breath out of the corner of his eye coming from a silent sigh, and heard the small click of a button before feeling a cloak much warmer than the one he was already wearing drape across his shoulders. He instinctively tugged it closer to his chest.

He didn't know if it was from the rush of suddenly feeling something other than cold, but the question launched out of his mouth like he had no self control, startled by how loud it felt like it was, despite it being the only word spoken at a regular volume this entire time. "Do you think you'll remember him?" 

The silence afterward was deafening, Ranboo's hand on his shoulder remaining completely still. It was almost like he had turned into a statue while Tubbo's mind raced with every single regret he could think of and every possible way he could even apologize for asking such a bold question. He knew that Ranboo didn't like talking about the bad parts of his memory. Why did he have to open his damn mouth. 

When Ranboo responded, Tubbo had thought of at least twenty ways to try and explain himself. But he didn't reply with anger or disappointment like he expected. Instead, he said words that Tubbo knew would haunt him in his dreams.

"I don't know." 


End file.
